


"But after all, we are human/ We all feel this, the despair/ At some point or another/ Do we not?"

by KenrakenOkwaho



Series: Time Long Past [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Death, Drama & Romance, F/M, Het and Slash, I'm Bad At Summaries, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Slash, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, Smut, Song Lyrics, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-27 02:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10800240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenrakenOkwaho/pseuds/KenrakenOkwaho
Summary: Chapter I: Altaïr/Malik - Five times Altaïr said "Don't love me" and one time he wished he didn't, starting from his father's death and ending with the death of his right hand and true love.Chapter II: Ezio/Cristina - The years Ezio and Cristina spent apart from their POVs and a lot of angst of course.





	1. No Me Ames

**Author's Note:**

> Heeey, guys! So I heard this song 'No Me Ames' by JLo and Marc Anthony after a looong time and it got stuck in my brain and since somehow soapy Spanish lyrics and AC I seemed to have a deep connection for me at 3 AM, I wrote this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five Times Altaïr Said "Don't Love Me" and One Time He Wished He Didn't

After Umar's death everything changes. At 11 years old, Altaïr is still but a boy, a boy who should be mourning his father, a boy who should be crying, screaming, searching for comfort in his moments of despair. Instead, he is brutally thrown into a world of bloodshed, fights and hatred, the child he once was already a vivid memory overpowered, broken and erased by the Creed, the duty to become a true Assassin for the greater good, for freedom, liberation, peace. His father's sacrifice more than just proved that, his loyalty to the Brotherhood firm, unwavering, resolute even as he waited patiently for his execution. Al Mualim tells him to follow Umar's example, to learn, to train, to fight in order to become the best. And he does just that. From the moment he joins the Order, he asserts his dominance. No one is able to rise to his level, no one can match his skills, no one challenges him after his first week as a novice, nothing and no one dares to stand in his way, not even his friendship with Abbas. He chooses to put up an emotionless facade to mask the inner torrent of emotions swirling in his soul and mind, the pain, the sorrow, the grief, the struggle, all of them threatening to burst his heart out of his chest. A beast they say he is, taking out his anger and frustration on the underlings... he couldn't care less. With each training session he becomes more and more violent, pummeling his opponents to the point they can't get back on their feet. Until, one day, someone stands up to him.

 

Two months after his father's death, that's when it happens the first time. The sun shines brightly above the fortress, scorching, almost burning through his skull despite the hood covering his head. He hasn't been fighting for long, yet the match will soon be coming to an end, his adversary just as weak as the ones before him. Left, right, dodge, attack keep repeating in his head like a mantra, his pent-up fury fueling every charge, every punch, every slash, blinding him until the other novice falls to the ground battered and bloodied, hands shielding him from the rapidly approaching sword.

 

"Enough!"

 

A word that will always haunt his conscious and subconscious because  **he** said it, a word that echoes not only through the courtyard, but through his entire body. Whether it is from shock or something else, Altaïr doesn't know, but he stops, blade only inches away from piercing his opponent's abdomen. Silence. Realisation dawns on him. He almost killed one of his brothers... how could he have gone so out of hand... his face remains passive, unflinching as he hides his inner battle with his guilt. A blurry figure snaps him out his thoughts, drawing his attention back to the nearly inert body lying in the dirt. Fiery eyes look back at him through ebony bangs, rage, dismay and apprehension blending with their molten pools of chocolate, the subtle hint of disappointment quite unsettling. He watches as the lanky novice supports his fallen comrade, sharp glare never leaving Altaïr's cold one as they pass by him and off the training ground. He stays motionless for some time, armed hand hanging limply at his side. No one tries to break the stillness. Golden orbs lift to meet his Mentor's certainly reproachful ones, neither breaking eye contact. A deep sigh leaves his dry lips as he raises his arm to sheathe the worn-out sword before turning around and heading for the gate.

 

He spends the rest of his day sprinting from rooftop to rooftop, lazying around in a haystack from time to time. Sunset catches him at the stables outside the village, absent-mindedly grooming Asim. It calms him, the horse's soft hair and his sympathetic nickers, the gentle breeze of the approaching night... it makes him forget the way things are now... He never had a close connection to his father, he sees Al Mualim as more of a father figure than Umar ever was... yet he still misses the old man so damn much... and he hates it, he hates that he had to die because of a stupid mistake made by an Assassin who couldn't endure pain and torture, who should have never been one of them in the first place. He grits his teeth, ignoring the familiar, yet unfamiliar sting prickling at his eyes as he continued to brush the auburn mane of the steed. It doesn't take long for his serene moments to be disturbed by an unwelcome presence, a short cough accompanying the boy who confronted him today. Not a single glance is cast the other's way, Altaïr ignoring him altogether. This doesn't deter the boy in the least. Ha... he should've known from back then that he won't ever get rid of Malik.

 

"Why did you do it?"

 

The Son of No One doesn't bother to respond.

 

"Defeating him wasn't enough for you?"

 

Again, no reply. However, the other keeps asking.

 

"You had to beat him to a pulp to show you are the best?"

 

Still no reaction.

 

Tension hangs heavily in the night air as Malik's patience is wearing thin. In a few strides, he's right behind Altaïr, gripping his shoulder tightly while he whirls him around to face his wrath, grabbing at the sides of the grey hood. To say that Malik is surprised would be an understatement. He is completely and utterly bewildered by the tear streaks flowing freely down the other's juvenile features... they make him seem even younger than he is. Helpless and alone.

 

Despite the salty drops of liquid caressing his tanned skin, Altaïr doesn't try to wipe away the proof of his sorrow and he doesn't make a move to swat away Malik's hands. No, he squares his shoulders, a dead look settling in his hollow irises.

 

"What do you want, Al-Sayf?"

 

This time, it is Malik's turn to stay silent, searching eyes attempting to peer into a tenebrous abyss. The fingers clutching Altaïr's robes loosen, gliding to his shoulders before feeble arms go around his neck, pulling him close into a warm embrace. Time stops, Altaïr's heart ceases its beating for a second, one thought flashing faintly through his weary mind:

 

_Don't love me, I beg you_

_Leave me with my bitterness_

 

◇◇◇

 

The second time it happens is three days before they have to leave on their mission in Jerusalem. Altaïr doesn't know what took over him, but the impulse to act on his long-repressed desire is too powerful. That's how he ends up in a rooftop garden, the trembling mess that was Malik pressed against his body while they shamelessly rut, the delicious friction between their clothed erections sending sparks of electricity through their veins. Plump lips caress the surprisingly soft skin of Malik's neck, trailing hot wet kisses up and down the suave column, velvety tongue lavishing it with sensual swirls as sharp teeth graze the sensitive spots on his collarbone. Oh, how he wishes to suck on that sweet flesh, to bruise it, to leave his mark for everyone to see. He can't do that, of course, but it is all so very tempting, the pleasure thrumming through their muscles, the blood boiling under the fevered canvas of their skin, the gasps and moans they make, everything, so raw, so overwhelming, building up to that one moment of bliss when hot waves of release make their nerves go haywire and their lips part in silent screams before they crash into a passionate dance. They ride it out together, mouths separating slowly as their foreheads lean against each other, sweat sluicing down into their robes. It's warm and peaceful, no words venturing outside the confines of their minds, neither wanting to chase away the tranquil atmosphere. Only now, the arrogant prodigy, the youngest Master Assassin of his time, realises that his feelings for Malik run deeper than he ever thought before, so strong, so vexing, so  **real**. He loathes it... this weakness growing inside him. He's afraid.

 

_Don't love me, as I know I will hurt you_

_With my heart, cold as a thousand winters_

 

◇◇◇

 

The third time, everything happens in a flash. He's been in Jerusalem for three days, searching for intel on Talal, the next target he needs to eliminate in order to restore his stripped rank. He knew from the beginning that this mission will be difficult, not because of the slaver, but because of Malik. After what transpired at Solomon's Temple, the current Bureau leader despises him like no other, even wishes him death.

 

Their first interaction is curt and imbued with venom. Altaïr doesn't blame him, it's his fault that Kadar is dead after all. Still, in the face of such enmity, the fallen Master Assassin doesn't show any emotion, doesn't back down either, keeping up his aloof guard. It's night when he returns from his information hunt, dropping soundlessly from the roof. He dreads the necessary exchange he has to initiate, but he has no choice.

 

Ten minutes later, he doesn't exactly remember how they got in such a state of savagery. Lying half-naked from the waist down in a sea of books and scrolls and loamy shards, bruised and bloody, bites, scratches, fingerprints adorning every part their lean bodies as they grind wildly against each other, heat emanating around them in stormy surges as they spew insults at each other. The feeling is surreal, constricting muscles sucking him in like a black vortex with every plunge into that tight heat, every slap of skin on skin. The pace is brutal, unrelenting, both Assassins yearning for the release they so desperately need. After their first sexual encounter, neither one of them thought that they will be in this position again. They swore to never surrender to their desires. They were so sure they will prevail in that attempt. How wrong they were... It seems they're bound to stumble upon one another for the rest of their lives, two planets orbiting around each other for eternity, never divided, yet never together, always separated by gravity because... if they were to get closer they would collide, destroying each particle of their being without hesitation. They are an asymmetric mirror, so different, yet so whole, destiny breaking its surface, destiny glueing the pieces back once more.

 

Their tryst ends with simultaneous shouts of anguish and regret. If Malik feels the tears dripping on his neck, he says nothing. If Altaïr hears the quiet sobs, he turns the other way, pretending it was nothing.

 

 

_Don't love me because I'm a lost cause_

_Because the world is changing, because it's destiny_

_Because it's not possible, we are a mirror_

_And you would be what I am, my reflection_

 

◇◇◇

 

By the time it happens again he's already married to Maria, brave and beautiful Maria. What he has come to know as love for Malik, never faltered, but a silent agreement has been sealed, their fate has been sealed, their dangerous tandem coming to an end long ago. At fifty-two and as Mentor of the Order, Altaïr is far wiser than he was twenty-seven years prior, yes, wiser, when it comes to Maria, to his sons, to the Brotherhood, to the Apple, but not when it comes to Malik. With time, he came to the conclusion that  he regrets nothing they did. He treasures the moments they had, the kisses they shared, everything. He made Malik his right hand, his confidant, his friend, he will be the one in charge after Altaïr leaves for Mongolia. Still... the strain in their relationship is palpable. To everyone around them, except Maria, nothing's wrong, yet the same tension from over thirty years ago persists, haunting them day and night. They ignore it like they always do.

The day of his departure comes so quickly that it almost takes him by surprise. The sun gradually rising from behind the mountains spreads its light across the land, playful golden rays cascading over the fortress. He's exhausted, standing by the window akin to a ghost, memories and dreams of what could have been plaguing his mind even after he awoke from his restless sleep. Looking back to the bed a melancholic smile flickers on his lips. Oh... Maria, she doesn't deserve such an insignificant fragment of his heart, she deserves so much more. She knows about them, she knew from the beginning, even before she met Malik, she knew his heart will never be hers and she accepted it. Now, staring at her delicate form tangled in the silky sheets, he sees once more why he chose to marry her.

 

Still cladded in his sleeping clothes, he makes his way towards the door, silently apologising on his way out of their chamber. He doesn't see the knowing eyes following him until he's gone.

 

The halls are freezing, goosebumps littering his skin. When he reaches Malik's room he doesn't bother to knock, he simply enters. The sword pointing at his chest was to be expected. What shocks him is the demanding pair of lips melding with his own, desperate, forgiving, loving. He reciprocates instantly, wrapping his arm around the other man, pulling him closer as if he wanted them to become one. They stay in that embrace long after their kiss ended, lost in each other, yearning for what can never be. They part after what seems like an eternity, eyes truly peering into the depths of their souls for the second time since that fateful encounter when the two of them were nothing more than unexperienced children. Regret shines in Malik's eyes yet again, regret for not following his heart when he had the chance, regret for always choosing the most rational path, regret for letting what they had... what they still have... go to waste while they both immersed themselves in their cause, obsessed with fulfilling the purpose they were given from the first breath they took... but Altaïr still refuses to blame him, why would he? He shares half of that remorse with Malik. A bittersweet smile caresses his tired features and, for the first time, he says the words his mind whispers:

 

_Don't love me, if you're going to be dying_

_in a war full of regrets_

 

◇◇◇

 

When they return to Masyaf nothing is how they expected, how it used to be. People are afraid, the pungent stink of treason permeating every crevasse on Assassin territory. Then, bad news after bad news drown them in a torrent of tragedy and grief. Rauf passed away, Sef is dead too. What's worse, they say that Malik had murdered him... and the former Mentor actually believes that for a second, blinded by sorrow, fury, agony, despair. But, Maria, his kind and strong Maria wakes him up, admonishing him like a child for believing more in Abbas than in Malik. Maybe a petty part of him still considers Abbas a friend... how foolish, he knows better.

 

With Darim gone, chasing ghosts, only Altaïr can break in and free Malik, he won't let Maria get involved in this conflict... at least not yet. So they talk and plan and contemplate until they come up with the simplest idea. Kill and infiltrate. Infiltrate and kill. He doesn't like that he has to eliminate his own brothers, but it has to be done and he won't back down.

 

Night comes strangely quickly. Stars twinkle shyly on the clear sky, only the enchanting moon watching over him with caring silver rays of light as they illuminate his every step. It's easy to get in, most of the Assassins who remained in the fortress are so sure of the impenetrability of the fortress that they don't give much importance to focusing on guarding it. Fortunately, this negligence means that he doesn't have to slit their throats. The sight that meets his eyes when he finds Malik is appalling. He barely recognises the crippled and unconscious figure lying in faeces and urine, skin covering the frail sinews struggling to cling to undoubtedly broken bones. Nothing stops him from entering the cell and picking up the man who he has come to consider the love of his life. Hollowed eyes flicker open for a second, staring up at him in disbelief before closing again. And if he mindlessly cracks some skulls and spines on his way out, no one has the right to judge.

 

He brings him to Maria, still fading in and out of consciousness, but alive. She tends to him and he tells them about Abbas, how the scoundrel had worked to undermine his authority and ultimately framed him for Sef's murder. Hours go by as they talk about what happened in the years they were apart, essential things, trivial matters, stories, even jokes. They all need this respite, however short it is. Maria leaves after a while, she knows they have to be alone.

 

As he silently sits there, by Malik's side, the once fierce man seems so fragile, so ephemeral and Altaïr's afraid that if he touches him he might turn to dust and dissipate into the air, forever lost. They gaze into each other's olden orbs, every emotion that they've ever hidden pouring out of them like whirling rivers. Callous fingers extend to tentatively skim them across the other's angular face, a spark they never forgot raking through their bodies. He leans closer, lips meeting halfway into a soft kiss. Oh, how he missed this... They don't know for how long they've been floating in this bubble of warmth and comfort, but exhaustion slowly took its toll. He stays with Malik until he falls asleep.

 

He kissed him on the forehead one more time before he leaves with the promise of returning tomorrow, the fear of loosing him still looming over his heart.

 

_If I don't deserve your love,_

_Fine, don't love me, but stay another day_

_I want to take flight with your_

_love across the bright blue sky_

 

◇◇◇

 

Remorse, anguish, pain, misery, they all tear him at once and he's not sure he can get back on his feet... it's too much. He cannot bear to look at the head at his feet, but he can see the blood pooling around them.

He promised... he promised they will see each other today... he lied... again...

_I'm sorry... so, so sorry..._

Tears threaten to fall, but he doesn't let them, he traps them and lets their salty texture burn his eyes. He feels Maria's hand on his shoulder, a vain effort of alleviating his suffering.

Too late... The world they once knew is shattered... has been shattered for decades, crumbling away ages ago, before they left, before they met, before his father's death...he just failed to see that.

And now, staring at the bright blue sky, he realises they've been watching each other die slowly for years without doing anything to stop it... he wishes he wasn't so stubborn, he wishes he told Malik how much he loved him... he wishes... he wishes... but what's the use of wishing when all is lost... gone forever...

 

_Don't leave me, don't leave me_

_Don't listen to me when I say "don't love me"_

 

An eagle soars through the clouds, its sharp shriek echoing everywhere around. He smiles. They'll meet again someday, he knows that and it doesn't matter when.

 

_You left me, but you and I will fly_

_You and I, we will always be together_

_This love is like the sun that comes after the storm_

_Like two comets dancing in the sky_

 


	2. Non C'è

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The years Ezio and Cristina spent apart from their POVs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it's worth reading, but I wrote it nonetheless :)

You probably think I didn't see you there that night, but you are wrong, I saw you, I could feel your eyes following me as you spoke with your brother. I didn't think much of it, you seemed to be just a young man bent on seducing women, cute but of no interest to me whatsoever. Then, you surprised me, twice to be exact. Firstly, by thinking I would fall for your tactless wooing attempt. Secondly, by appearing out of nowhere to save me from Vieri. I was so thankful, although I couldn't shake the knowledge that you were literally stalking me, which gave me little bit more than an uncanny feeling. In the end, I gave you a second chance didn't I? You deserved it and I didn't regret my decision... at least not until much, much later... when your father and brothers were hanged and you had to leave. I could see the shattering pain you were enduring, the grief of loosing three of the most important persons in your life... you were so young... As we watched the burning gondola drift away on the Arno, you said you had to leave, you said you wanted me to come with you, but I just couldn't leave my family just like you couldn't forsake yours... huh... egotistical of me... in a way. Some might think that if I loved you as much as I was claiming to I would've left too, my family was safe, we weren't involved in anything dangerous, there was no reason for me stay in Firenze while the man I loved went through fire and water to make justice. But we both knew we should part ways, our lives were too asynchronous to flawlessly merge with only our love to support us and, although I could understand that it must be done, I hated it... I needed you, you needed me, yet you were leaving me behind to seek revenge... why couldn't you stay? I didn't know why I kept asking myself that, it was obvious, you were a hunted man you couldn't stay even if you wanted to. God, it hurt so much.

 

_Io non avrei creduto mai di poter perder la testa per te (I could never believe it possible to lose my head for you)_

_All'improvviso sei fuggito via (And suddenly you ran away)_

_Lasciando il vuoto in questa vita mia (Leaving emptiness in this life)_

_Senza risposte ai miei perché adesso cosa mi resta di te? (Without answers to my questions, and now what’s left from you?)_

 

You understood my decision, of course you did, family meant as much to you as it meant to me. You gave me a pendant along with the promise of always being together, the promise to always remember each other. Then, you were gone, leaving me to wonder what might have been if things were different, questions upon questions swirling in my mind, unanswered.

 

◇◇◇

 

I planned to stay in Monteriggioni for a short while, but that turned out to be impossible. Months of training and my uncle's conspicuous attempt at inducting me into the Brotherhood of Assassins kept me quite busy. My father was one of them, my great grand father was one of them, I admired their Creed and their cause, but I couldn't put them above the safety of what was left of my family so I refused the offer, I denied my ancestry, intent on keeping my mother and sister out of harm's way by continuing our journey to Spain. The sooner we left the better, the ongoing attacks would stop and all would be well. However, my uncle was enraged by my resolution and my plans were hindered when he left for San Gimignano to confront the Pazzi. I went after him, of course, guilt bubbling in my heart, it was because of me that he was in that situation and if he died I couldn't live with myself. Through all that, I never once have I stopped thinking about you, about your soft skin caressing mine, about your gentle fingers wrapped around mine as we danced slowly towards our pleasure. During the day, it was easy enough to let the pain hide deep inside, but at night... oh, at night wave upon waves of regret and despair drowned me as I lay in bed, trying to put the pieces of my soul together.

 

_Incantenata a notte di follia (Chained to this night of crazyness)_

_Non c'è non c'è il profumo della tua pelle (It’s not here, the perfume of your skin is not here)_

_Non c'è il respiro di te sul viso (It’s not here, your breath on my face)_

_Non c'è la tua bocca di fragola (It’s not here, your strawberry mouth)_

_Non c'è il dolce miele dei tuoi capelli (It’s not here, the sweet honey of your hair)_

_Non c'è che il veleno di te sul cuore (It’s not here, your poison in my heart)_

 

That's how, after two years of being off the radar, the successful assassination of Vieri and my new status as an Assassin, I found myself back in Firenze, coming home, coming back to you... hoping that we could start anew. I was too late... you were engaged... I lost my chance. I still remember your soft lips pressing against mine as we kissed after I saved Manfredo, knowing that perhaps it'll be the last time, yet wishing that it won't. Then, I left... again... like the coward you surely thought I was, but I left reconciled with the certainty that your future husband truly loved you. I chose what I thought was best for you, I chose to set you free, free of me and the ultimate tragedies following me around like the plague, free of the imminent death that would have loomed over your head if I were to remain by your side. I shut off completely after that and I resigned myself when it came to our love. I knew that:

 

_Non c'è via d'uscita per questo amore (There’s no way out of this love)_

_Non c'è non c'è vita per me, più (There’s no, there’s no life for me anymore)_

_Non c'è non c'è altra ragione che mi liberi l'anima (There’s no, there’s no other reason that sets my soul free)_

 

◇◇◇

 

Two years... you came back after two years... I basked in the warmth of your palm as it caressed my cheek, in the tenderness of your fingers grasping my hand as they sent tingles whilst I slide it away. I was so happy to see you, but, at the same time, I despised you... how could you do that to me? When I finally came to terms with the idea that I won't ever see you again, you decided to return and break down every ounce of peace I had. What I loathed most was that you gave me hope, hope that maybe we could be together, built a life, even though I was still torn between my family and my heart. A wave of relief washed over me when we were interrupted. I was worried for Manfredo, of course I was, but while you were away to save him, I reached my own conclusion. I would've left everything for you behind if you asked me to. But you didn't. You just kissed me, passionate and full of love, I missed it. I didn't expect what you threw at me next... you said you made sure he'll be a good husband then... you vanished as I wallowed in regret, drowning once again in the torrent of what could have been.

 

_E tu sei l'uragano contro me (And you are the hurricane against me)_

_Strappando i sogni nei giorni miei te ne sei andato di fretta perché (Breaking all my daydreams and running away quickly because…)_

_Non c'è non c'è che il veleno di te sul cuore_

_Non c'è via d'uscita per questo amore_

_Non c'è non c'è vita per me, più_

_Non c'è non c'è altra ragione per me_

 

I married him not long after, the light in my soul that shined for you dimming as I watched the sun set on the horizon.

 

◇◇◇

 

Almost a decade of restless battles and bloodshed passed before I saw you again, eight years of traveling back and forth between Monteriggioni, San Gimignano, Venezia, Forlì, Spain then, finally, Firenze. I didn't visit you, I ended that chapter of my life, but deep down I wished that somehow we will cross paths. Sadly, fate wasn't on our side. I continued my mission, pursuing what I would later find out was not actually my target. I left for Venezia soon after, without a backward glance. It didn't take much time for everything to change, my world brightening from the moment Leonardo told me you were in Venezia for the Carnevale. I was so desperate to get to you, to feel you, to hold you, kiss you like I used to, find the remnants of our love and the comfort of memories long gone. I was so forlorn and unsure of the way you will react that I resorted to posing as Manfredo because otherwise you would not have come to meet me. For that, I am sorry. I am sorry that, instead of having a peaceful reunion, I caused you anger and distress. I'm sorry, but I do not regret it. I will never forget that Carnevale, not because of its grandeur or colourful lights or dances or fine wine or women, no, I will never forget it because that was the last time I saw your beautiful face as if I saw if for the first time, that was the last time I pressed my lips to yours, the last time I felt your fiery blood thrumming through your veins with heat and passion... that was the last time I hoped I will return to Firenze one day and find you waiting for me.

 

◇◇◇

 

Not one day passed without your face, your voice, the feeling of your skin on mine creeping their way into my mind. Eight years flew by in a flash. I moved on with my life as you did with yours, but my **heart** never moved on. I kept thinking about you, if you were safe, if you will ever return and if I will be there. And then, Manfredo came up with the idea of going to the Carnevale in Venezia. I cheerfully agreed, it was a great idea indeed. I could see how much he loved me. He never gambled again after that incident with you, he worked hard to earn his place among the nobles, he showered me with affection and fine gifts and little things like flowers, picnics, romantic walks. He was the perfect husband... I have to thank you, I guess. I loved him back... but not as a wife should and he knew it. He knew that he was like a brother, yet he stayed by my side, faithful and unflinching, my rock. I silently apologised to him each night for not loving him back the way he did, I silently apologised for not being able to give him the one thing we both wanted so much... a child. I kept apologising and he kept soothing, that was the way we worked... and it was all right.

 

The day we arrived in Venezia was sunny and beautiful, the sky clear, the city buzzing with life and tranquility. We spent the day mapping out the streets, the monuments, the piazze, it was enchanting. I didn't think it could get better than it already was, but I was proven wrong. Night came and everything was suddenly engulfed by a lively atmosphere, exuberant people, unruly dances, rainbows of lights and fireworks. However, I could feel eyes tracing our steps,  **my** steps. I had a feeling it was you, but... what were the chances? I brushed it off. Soon, my suspicion was confirmed. The letter I found in my pocket said to meet Manfredo in an alley. How foolish was I that I didn't realise it was from you? Either way, I came and we kissed and I knew it was you from the moment our lips touched. When I found the strength to push you away a rush of fury overpowered any semblance of happiness I felt at seeing you. You left me, I love you and you left me, knowing that I would have married you in a beat if you fought for me. You told me it was the right thing to do... and I did understand... but I couldn't forgive you... not yet. And so, torn apart by our forbidden love, I told you to never look for me again.

 

◇◇◇

 

Third Person POV

 

They meet again... for one last time.

 

When he returns, he finds Firenze burning from inside, burning to the ground as Savonarola preaches about his evil change of time. He hopes that she is safe while she... she fights to survive, to save Manfredo and then... she struggles, she struggles in vain to get away, watching helplessly as they stab her husband with no remorse or care. With one last drop of power, Manfredo ensures her escape, yelling at her to run as fast as she can and not look back.

 

He finds Manfredo bleeding out by a well, barely alive. The sky falls down on him when he hears what has happened. Anguish "Where is Cristina!?!" Desperation "Manfredo! Where is she!?!" Helplessness "No!!!" clench around his heart as they smother him inside and out while he runs in hopes he'll get to her in time.

 

She's cornered, taunted for her noble blood and richness. This time, she has no escape. They near, swords glistening in the sunlight, and she closes her eyes, murmuring her final prayer as her soul whispers his name in the chaos of her mind. She hears his voice as if it was a dream "Cristina!" booming over the screams bouncing off the city's streets, and that's her cue. She flees, two fanatics already on her tail, she knows that she won't get out of this alive, but she tries. She doesn't notice the crimson liquid slowly seeping out through her golden gown. When she does, it's too late.

 

He kills them, he kills them all! But he failed to save her... Tears prickle his eyes when he sees her limp body lying on the ground, she is not dead, not yet... but her life is nearing its end. He knows it, she knows it, but he chooses to deny as he cradles her into his arms.

 

The courtyard where they hide is serene, quiet, peaceful, so different from the torrent raging in his heart.

 

"Cristina... Hold on! I'll get you to a doctor... You're going to be all right!"

 

He's fooling himself, they both know that, but grief doesn't wait for him to realise there's nothing he can do to change fate.

 

"Don't go... Don't go... Stay with me, Cristina!"

 

She lifts her hand, trying to grasp something around her neck "Ezio... don't you know...? I've always been with you."

 

He sees it now, the pendant he gave her eighteen years ago... the promise he made rings in his head "So we'll always be together." It seems he cannot keep that promise either... is he meant to lose everyone he loves? Everywhere he goes, death follows... he didn't choose this life, he was chosen by it.

 

As light begins to fade slowly from her eyes, she whispers her regret "I wish we... could have had... a second chance."

 

He holds her, he wants to hold her for eternity... he wants to die, but he, himself, won't let that happen, so he makes another promise, one that he intends to keep.

 

_Se esiste un Dio no può scordarsi di me anche se (If there is a God, He cannot forget about me, even if there is)_

_Fra lui e me c'è un cielo nero, nero senza fine (Between Him and me, a black, black sky without end)_

_Lo pregherò, lo cercherò e lo giuro ti troverò (I will pray, I will search for you and I swear I will find you)_

_Dovessi entrare in altre dieci cento mille vite (Even if I have to endure another 10, 100, 1000 lives)_

 


End file.
